Monday was a horrible day in West Yorkshire. Torrential rain and high winds were battering the city when I arrived at Wakefield One for my afternoon of reading and discussion with some of the lovely members of the reading groups run by Alison Cassels. My husband dropped me off opposite the library complex and I got soaked – and nearly blown away – just crossing the road.
Nevertheless, I felt both philosophical and optimistic. As I’ve already noted, every event for The Crossing so far has taken place when the weather outside has been appalling, and every one has been a success. I knew that the gallant and stalwart members of the Wakefield reading groups would not let me down by preferring their firesides to the library.
Reader, I was not wrong! An extremely lively audience arrived punctually, some having regaled themselves with hot soup in the café to start with, and we all enjoyed a couple of hours of reading, writing and sleuthing, handsomely fortified by the Christmas cake, mince pies and stollen and tea and coffee supplied as generously and thoughtfully as usual by Alison and Lynn.
After listening to and providing feedback on the readings as only Wakefield audiences know how to do, when invited to take inspiration from the first chapter of The Crossing, each of the group members wrote a short sketch of an event that had happened to them and had stayed with them vividly, one that might be used as the opening scene of a novel. I hope the photographs capture the lively and committed participation that has come to be the hallmark of Wakefield One events: some read their own sketches, others asked their immediate neighbour to read for them. Everyone was spellbound by what was on offer. The accounts were fascinating and included bell-ringing for the first time and soaring unintentionally upwards on the rope, riding to London on The Flying Scotsman, walking to school through the snow in the Arctic winter of 1947 and the tale of how an uncle had pawned his wife’s hard-saved-for furniture to buy a red sports car. Novels in the making, every one – and the quality of the writing was of a very high standard.
The afternoon was rounded off by a quiz prepared by Alison. She’d found the photographs of twenty famous crime writers and asked the group to put names to them while I signed some books. It was a brilliant idea, and quite a hard task: no-one got more than half of the answers correct. (I’m going to ask Alison if she’ll let me have the quiz to post on this blog, as I’m sure some of my readers will enjoy it, too!).
The time slid away very rapidly. Braced by a final cup of tea, we ventured out into the cold again before we were trapped by the notorious end-of-day Wakefield traffic bottlenecks. I’d like to thank everyone who took part: the reading group members for giving me so much support (as they always do; it was also good to see several new faces this time), Alison and Lynn for arranging it all so impeccably, the Wakefield Libraries tweeter who, together with them, ensured that the event gained plenty of publicity, and Richard Knowles of Rickaro Books for supplying copies of The Crossing for sale. I hope to see you all again soon!
Hi Christina, Thank you for a lovely afternoon, I thought it was funny that Allison had pulled the blinds down to keep the wind and rain from view while you were speaking! As always you led us through the setting to your book.
It is good to see you, bringing a waft of Lincolnshire to your Yorkshire readership. Accompanied by your personal photographer and manager.
Hope you have a lovely Christmas and best wishes for the New Year. See you next year…
I’m here again, Marjorie, eating humble pie and apologising for my failure to respond to commenters. I look back on that day with very warm feelings, as you were, as always, a brilliant audience. All I can say is that a lot of water has flowed down the Calder since then! Best wishes to you. 🙂
Worried about you in the flooding. How is house, dogs, husband, library? Horrible things, floods. Sodden: just a horrible word.
Oh, gosh, Jack! Here you are, being lovely and concerned and here I am… not! I hope that you will forgive me for being absent and incommunicative. I could provide lots of excuses, but what I want to say is ‘Thank you!’. We made it through the interminable rain and, because we live on a hill in the Pennines, we couldn’t suffer flooding, thank goodness. Now winter has arrived and we have minus temperatures and snow. Such is the whirligig of the weather. Wishing you well, in your probably very wintry part of the world. 🙂